


Winchester Family Vacation

by ThayerKerbasy



Series: The Path Not Taken [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beach Holidays, Crowley is family, Family Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: With Lucifer locked away and no pressing emergencies, it's a great time for a Winchester Family Vacation.
Series: The Path Not Taken [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973947
Comments: 26
Kudos: 25
Collections: SPNColdestHits





	Winchester Family Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> Technically written as a sequel to [Crossroads](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259390) but can be read on its own just fine. Canon divergent after 12x08. Lucifer ended up back in the Cage, Crowley didn't meddle, thus Lucifer didn't go on a killing spree, all the people we care about are fine and Crowley's had half a season or so to ingratiate himself with the guys.

Crowley refused to wear swimming trunks. He’d made many concessions to fit in with the Winchesters, but stripping down to a single article of clothing in public was where he drew the line. It was, most likely, the one thing from which his image could never recover.

“C’mon Crowley,” said Dean, wearing the loudest pair of Bermuda shorts Crowley had ever seen. “You’re seriously not gonna go in the water at all?”

The beach was crowded, even for July. Towels and umbrellas dotted the sand as far as the eye could see, and Crowley’s demonic eyes could see farther than most. Everywhere he looked were rambunctious children digging in the sand, splashing in the water, and generally being loud. When he was the ruler of Hell, he’d designed tortures that were less torturous.

Crowley gave the child-infested water a significant look. “You are?”

“Better believe it!” Dean flashed the smile responsible for breaking so many hearts, somehow still pulling off boyish charm. “Maybe not until after I’ve cooked in the sun for awhile though.”

Having apparently found a suitable patch of sand, Dean laid out his beach towel and the others followed suit. Crowley, never one to lower himself that far, reached through the fabric of the universe to retrieve the folding beach chair he’d selected for himself when he’d first been invited to join them for beach day. With a snap of his fingers, it unfolded itself, leaving Crowley nothing to do but sit and recline.

Moose, of course, scoffed. “Really, Crowley? I thought you were done propping yourself up artificially higher than everyone else.”

Crowley shook his head. “I was under the impression you _wanted_ to wallow in the dirt, but if you’re as uninterested in sand chafing your nethers as I am, I’ve brought enough for everyone.”

Without getting up, he pulled another chair out of storage and deposited it in the sand at Sam’s feet. Apparently the great galoot had come to expect such things from Crowley, because he barely reacted, shoving the chair to one side with his foot so he could finish laying out his towel. “Thanks but no thanks.”

“We’re going to build a sand castle,” added Jack, sitting on his towel and scooping sand into a child’s plastic pail. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Crowley made sure his face reflected the appropriate level of disdain before replying, “And accelerate the sand up my arse process? I don’t think so.”

“We don’t need his help,” grumbled Cas.

Given that Castiel’s sole concession to beach wear had been to leave his trenchcoat in the car, Crowley wasn’t inclined to give him much credence. Crowley had at least removed his shoes and suit jacket. “Don’t you? Who here has actually built a sand castle before? Don’t be shy, raise your hands.”

As expected, no one raised their hands. Cas scowled in that adorably understated way of his. “And you have?”

“Not as such, no, but I’m well-versed in the theory.” Crowley gave Jack’s plastic pail a pointed look. “I am, at least, aware that the tyke should be using wet sand, not dry.”

Perfectly timed to illustrate his point, Jack lifted his bucket to reveal his first castle. The dry contents of said bucket poured out in a sad little heap. The look he bestowed upon the pile gave him an uncanny resemblance to his self-proclaimed father, like a pathetic puppy.

The decision to reject his biological father being what had won Crowley over to Jack’s side in the first place, seeing the lad so unerringly imitate Castiel made Crowley sigh and sit up in his chair. “No matter. Buggering things up is how we learn. Dig a little deeper now, until you get past that useless ornamental stuff.”

Encouraged, Jack returned to digging. Everyone else stared at Crowley as if he’d sprouted another head. Crowley glared back, daring them to say something. “What?”

Dean, of course, took him up on it. “That was almost…nice.” 

“Bite your tongue, it was nothing of the sort,” growled Crowley in the hopes of protecting the last remaining vestiges of his reputation. “It merely pained me to watch such abject failure.”

Again mimicking his adoptive father, Jack tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “Uncle Crowley, why do you always lie about being nice?”

With only two words, the wretched spawn of Satan shut down Crowley’s brain. In the modern vernacular, today’s youth might have said he could feel his soul leaving his body, but Crowley’s mangled soul was the whole of his essence, and its loss would have left his empty meatsuit face down in the sand. As his dignity had already taken enough blows for one day, he opted to dissociate in a less literal fashion.

From somewhere in the physical realm, in the land of feels, Dean laughed.

Sam said, “Uncle Crowley??”

Cas, of course, only studied him, as if waiting to see his response. Oddly enough, it was that dispassionate stare that prodded Crowley to speak. “Why am I here?”

That was obviously not what they expected him to say. Their perplexed expressions would have been almost comical, had he not been looking for an answer. “No, really. Why am I here? If you all think so little of me, why was I invited?” 

“Because you’re family,” Jack answered with all the apparent ease of a toddler giving his reasons for liking ketchup. “This is a family vacation. Dean said so. Family goes on family vacations, and you’re family.”

There was no capacity for falsehood in the lad. When asked a question, Jack tended to be painfully honest. If he said Crowley was family, he absolutely meant it. Of course Jack couldn’t speak for anyone else, but he could and did stare at his three adoptive parents expectantly.

Dean cracked first. “Okay, alright, fine! Yes, I did say it was a family vacation, and yes, I did say you could invite Crowley. Full disclosure: I didn’t think to put those two together, but if you say Crowley’s family, I’m not gonna argue with your definition of family.”

Under his breath, Cas grumbled, “I might.” Crowley, however, had long since accepted that he’d never win over the angel, and that quiet grumbling was the best he’d get. He treasured his unkillable frenemy status.

Heaving a sigh, Sam stood and unfolded the chair he’d previously shoved aside, positioning it close enough to Jack that he could continue to participate in sand castle building. Only after seating his ridiculously lanky frame did he meet Crowley’s eyes. “You’re right. Jack’s the only one who wanted you here. He asked and none of us could figure out why the hell he’d want you along, but y’know what? You’re here because none of us could come up with a reason for you _not_ to come. It might not be the same thing, but take the win.”

It _was_ a win, even though it might not have seemed like it at first. Crowley was well aware that the Crowley from even three years ago never would have been welcome. And Jack did genuinely want him there, whatever the others thought.

The expression on Jack’s face made Crowley’s decision for him. “Pro tip for you, Feathers Junior: if you go fill your bucket with water, you can make your own wet sand for castles.”

“Really?” The lad’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Uncle Crowley! I’ll be right back.”

While Jack ran to the water’s edge, Crowley plastered on a smile. “Whether you want me here or not, the kid does. As far as I’m concerned, that means I’ve won the popularity contest, and as such, he has my full attention. If you knuckleheads ruin this for me, I’ll have your entrails for breakfast.”

It was an empty threat and they knew it. The days when he was willing to harm any of them were long past, as evidence, the fact that they’d remained unscathed after sending Gavin back to his proper place in time.

Moose rolled his eyes and Squirrel smirked, but it was Cas who responded. “The only one who might ruin anything is you. He trusts you right now. All you have to do is not hurt him.”

Jack came running back just then, cutting off any witty retort Crowley might have made to. He dumped his bucket of water into the hole he’d dug, grinning as it absorbed into the sand. “You were right! I don’t know why I didn’t think of this. Now we can make a gigantic sand castle.” He paused, looking pensive. “I wonder if we could make sand zombies outside the sand castle.”

Seizing the opportunity, Crowley swung his legs over the side of his chair so he could face the lad directly. “Why don’t you get started on the castle and I’ll see if I can come up with a way for us to make your tiny undead horde.”

Sam sighed and lay back in his chair. “This is _not_ how I envisioned our beach vacation.”

“Nope,” said Dean, digging a beer out of the cooler. “It’s better. Zombies are awesome. Hey Crowley, got any more of those beach chairs?”

“I did mention that earlier, I’m quite sure of it,” replied Crowley, hauling another chair out from the storage unit where he’d stashed them.

Setting his beer atop the cooler, Dean accepted the chair with an offhand, “Thanks,” as if it was a small, insignificant thing and not the monumental moment of acceptance it felt like. He’d just sat down, beer in hand, when he said, “Y’know, I’ll bet we could use beer labels to make zombies. A bit of tearing and folding, maybe use some little twigs to prop ‘em up. Might take a bit to figure it out, but I’m sure we could manage something.”

Jack’s eyes lit up (thankfully not literally). “Cool! Uncle Crowley, could you maybe help Dean figure out how to make paper zombies while Castiel, Sam, and I make the castle?”

Even if Crowley didn’t already have half a dozen paper zombie ideas swirling around his brain, there was no way he could say no. Jack had seeped into all the empty spaces Gavin’s loss had left, soothing their raw edges. “I was about to suggest the very same thing.” Quirking a half smile, he held out a hand to Dean. “Pass one over and let’s see what we can come up with.”

It wasn’t a conventional family vacation — everyone who passed gave them strange looks — but it was perfect for them. The paper zombies eventually got waterlogged in the castle moat, so Jack made a stickman hero to “shoot” them with pebbles. With the army of the dead conquered, Jack decided it was time for him to learn to swim, and he wanted everyone to help.

Crowley tried his best to ignore Dean’s grin when it only took a second request from the kid to get him to acquiesce. It wasn’t long, however, before Crowley wiped the smile off Dean’s face. He wouldn’t wear swimming trunks, but a bright red speedo was another matter entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> The theme for this month's Coldest Hits is [summer vacation, canon 'verse style, and make sure they have a good time](https://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/619112806949797888/july-2020-prompt-summer-vacation-posting-dates). It's my theme though, so go nuts. I'll take all the comments and kudos, please and thanks.


End file.
